


In a Week

by Rivendell101



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6178705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivendell101/pseuds/Rivendell101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy doesn’t know exactly how long he and Clarke have been lying here, years or hours, he supposes at this point it doesn’t matter much. Time isn’t important to them anymore. Besides, he’s never felt as peaceful as right now, on his back in the damp grass with Clarke, in such a deep sleep that it creeps through him like it never wants to let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Week

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically my first Bellarke/100 drabble and I hope to get more involved in the fandom as time goes on! You can find me on my tumblr at http://rivendell101.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> Any feedback I receive on this is MUCH appreciated! Have a nice day everyone!

Bellamy doesn’t know exactly how long he and Clarke have been lying here, years or hours, he supposes at this point it doesn’t matter much. Time isn’t important to them anymore. Besides, he’s never felt as peaceful as right now, on his back in the damp grass with Clarke, in such a deep sleep that it creeps through him like it never wants to let go. In a way, he never wants to move again, just stay here forever with Clarke and watch the sky bleed from red to blue to black and back again--the colors so much brighter than he’s ever known before. It’s beautiful, how quiet it is out here, away from the world.

He remembers them being thrown onto the grass to be found, bodies falling slowly and left in the fields to freeze at night and to thaw again in the day, the heat and the cold not biting into their skin as it should. They’ve been here so long that they’ve become a part of the land, flowers scattered across both him and Clarke--forget-me-nots, he things, small and as blue as her eyes as they blow in the breeze. Fitting, it seems. An eternal promise to remember even after they’ve become unmoving.

The sheep are still weary of their prone bodies, the cattle fearful of the unfamiliar smell and unmoving figures with their heartbeats long past slowing. He wonders if they’ll be found soon because of the animals, but is in no hurry to leave this place. There’s no reason for them to leave. Hunger touches them no more, not like it does the insects crawling across the dirt beneath them--hungry and wanting. They could stay here forever and just sleep.

Clarke hasn’t moved an inch that he’s seen, but then again neither has he. Their hands are still tangled somehow, both of them completely still with their skin growing cold in this endless sleep. Bellamy wishes he could squeeze her fingers with his or trace her palm with his thumb--intertwine their fingers once more, but both of their hands stay limp. His eyes lock with hers and she stares blankly back, unblinking and just as beautiful as she’s always been. The word “home” washes over him slowly, and he realizes he misses being there.

They’ll be found soon enough, he believes, in a week, as the weather grows hot and the buzzards begin to circle overhead. Then they can go home. He just wants to go home with Clarke and stay with her always, even as they become one with the flowers. They’d find them in a week, after the insects have claimed their bodies and the foxes have had their final taste. He’ll be home with her soon.

They’ll return home as corpses, unmoving in the dirt and grass with their hands clasped loosely, but at least he’ll be home with her soon.


End file.
